Spirits of the Sacred Grove by Emma Restall Orr

Author:Emma Restall Orr [Orr, Emma Restall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78279-684-8
Publisher: John Hunt Publishing
Published: 2014-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

It is a grove of field maple, a circle of trees with canopies spreading wide and just come into leaf, standing on the edge of a band of old woodland. The meadow is left for grazing, with rolls and slopes too steep for growing corn. It’s our place. It belongs to a friend of a friend, an old farmer, who chuckles at what he thinks we might be getting up to. Though we seldom find the time to get here, we know for sure that nobody else does. Occasionally the old chap laughs out loud as he tells how he keeps his grandchildren out of it, telling them of the crazy Witches and faery folk who come to play there. I grin with the warmth of it and thank him. Each time we return, the fire pit is always just as we left it, though the nettles that tether the grove to the woodland are high or dying down according to the time of year, and the maples are at different stages of their leafing.

From where I am sitting beneath the hawthorn, the maples are silhouetted against the dark blue horizon. Behind me the sun is melting gold as through those beautiful trees the moon is rising. I shift my bum on the soft earth and am tweaked by a thorn.

‘Ow!’

Do you dream?

No! That hurt! I’m watching – just being here.

A thrush in the hedgerow chortles his song of dusk. This is it, this is all there is, oh yes, so here are my sweet songs, my songs of thanks, and I wish you all adieu, oh yes, this is it.

I laugh. Thank you, brother mistle thrush, that was just beautiful. It is time for me to get moving too.

Are you as prepared as you should be? It’s the soft croaky voice of the dryad behind me.

My Lady of the May, you well know that beneath your branches I have journeyed to find my intention for this night. What is it that you doubt in me?

My sisters tell me that he is there.

Her words make me breathe in deeply, almost sharply. Getting to my feet, my legs all shaky from being motionless too long, I stretch and look down to the far end of the meadow.

I can see the fires flickering.

My sisters tell me that he is there, she tells me again.

Thank you.

I know she means more than I am picking up and inwardly call for guidance as I dig into my bag for offerings, scattering hazelnuts and raisins for the little creatures there. I bow to the hawthorn and ask, One last things – might I take a sprig of blossom for my hair?

You’ll need it.

As I near the trees I search with my eyes but can see him nowhere. The thick new grass is cool and damp around my toes and I tiptoe, avoiding the young leaves of thistle, ducking under the low branches, into the grove. There is nobody there. The fire is strong and flames lick into the deep colours of the earth and grass.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.